No Happy Endings
by Jokersmalice
Summary: Theres a girl that had always been there, behind the all the riots and schemes of Joker's. She was abused, and she's had enough.


_Something had changed. _

She no longer whimpered or choked up or let tears run down her face when he threatened her and hit her and abused her. & in an odd way, he missed it. It was never fun if there was no fear in their eyes. It was never fun if they didn't scream. It was never fun when they just took it.

She was always there, with her sparkling brown eyes and greasy brown hair, waiting. Plastering a smile on her face, she greeted the Joker with a small, "Welcome back."

She had been a present from a... business partner; she was merely a piece of property. He _owned_ her, like one would own a dog, and he treated her as such. He hadn't even given her a name, she was just 'girl', and when he was in an especially good mood, 'princess'.

She had grown quite used to the bruises and the pain that came day after day, but she had grown sick of it. & one day, she just couldn't take it anymore and she snapped.

This is that tale.

The Joker had a temporary residence at an empty warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham at that time. Dirt covered the floor, no, dirt _was_ the floor. It was no place for a person to live, but yet, there they were.

A couple pillows were piled up on top of a mattress that she had cleaned earlier. She would have waxed the desk in the corner, but she didn't want to disturb the piles of papers covered with scribbles and doodles.

The warehouse wasn't very large, only about the size of the average living room, but she made it work. A musty smell hung in the air that matched the first impression that it made on a person, considering there was literally a pile of guns and homemade knives in the corner.

She had never thought about using them against Joker. She swore she wasn't ever going to become like him, that she was never going to hurt anyone. But she knew that she would have to go against it in order to escape.

When the Joker burst through the panel that served as a makeshift door with the tail of his purple suit fluttering behind him, she couldn't tell what his mood was as she looked up from picking out dirt from under her fingernails with a switchblade she had picked out.

She was plotting against him, she had been thinking about it for a day and a half, since he had sliced open her jaw line on the right side of her face. It was still sore, but had begun to scab over.

She could smell his sweat from across the room and it had smeared the white greasepaint that covered his face. However, the lipstick that spread across his scars was untouched.

"GIRLY!" He yelled, slamming the panel closed. "BATSY DID IT! IT WAS WONDERFUL!"

She looked up to meet his black-covered eyes.

"You didn't deserve it," she muttered to herself.

"What?"

She gathered up all the courage she could manage and said a little bit louder, "You didn't deserve it."

"WHAT?" That had just infuriated him.

She winced and remembered the scene she had ran through her head the last night.

He stomped over to her, crouched down, and grabbed her chin, splitting open the cut he had caused. She wanted to scream out in agony, but she held it in, like she usually did and gripped the knife tighter in her hand.

"Now _why_ would you say something like that?" He spat out.

She kept silent as his blazing brown eyes dug into her own.

"Because it's true," she finally replied.

He pulled out his own knife and tugged on the sleeve of her filthy T-shirt, which easily ripped a couple of inches. He had never done anything intimate to her, but he had thought about it.

_But today isn't the day,_ he thought.

"Is that's _really_ why?" Joker smiled his creepy, almost idiotic grin as he asked.

The intensity in his voice was electrifying.

"Yes, it is," she spat back at him, raising her knife and pressing it up against the underside of his ribcage.

"Whoa there!" He dropped his knife and put his hands up like he had just been caught by the cops. "Let's not go overboard!"

"Why not? You do!" She pressed it harder through his shirt and against his skin and she could practically smell his anticipation. "& I'm tired of it!"

The Joker stayed completely still as she stood up, keeping the knife pointed at him, but now at the top of his shoulder.

"I am sick of you and your antics and you hitting me!" she screeched, "It's my damn turn now!"

She gasped. That had been the first time she had ever cursed in her life, but she really didn't care, it had just surprised her a bit.

"Okay, what do you want?"

"I just want to leave!" She could feel tears welling up, but she ignored them. "I just want some freedom! I want a life!"

As the Joker watched the tears fall down her face, he felt no remorse, no regret; he felt nothing but pure amusement, even though he kept a straight face. That was what he was good at, repressing his feelings and his motives.

Remembering all her scars and bruises and cuts and pain he had caused her, she pressed it even harder against the material-covered flesh on his shoulder.

"You can leave," he said softly, trying to calm her down a bit before she went on a straight-up rampage.

"Oh-I-I," she stammered, "I can?" She was quite honestly surprised. She didn't think it was going to be _that _easy. She had no thoughts whatsoever about whether there was a catch.

She lowered the knife and let down her guard for a just a moment.

In that split second, Joker knew that it wouldn't be his only chance, but he seized the chance and pulled out his gun.

Pressing it against her stomach, he exclaimed, "Of course not! Did you honestly think I would let you go over a… a cut?"

"Yes," she replied in a small voice, not leaving his gaze.

"Well then," his tongue whipped over his lips just as she dropped her knife.

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"No. Not _yet_."

Joker stood up, proving once and for all that he was the bigger person and he wasn't going to let his power go.

He had known for a very long time that she would rebel, that's part of the reason he had kept the weapons in a corner and treated her so badly. He _wanted_ her to rebel, he _wanted_ some drama.

She didn't stand down like she usually did. She stayed standing up and staring into Joker's deep, brown eyes.

"I want t-to go," she whispered.

The blood from the cut on her chin ran down her jaw line and dripped onto the gun.

Something inside her stomach dropped and her face went scarlet as he raised the gun to the middle of her chest.

She was so nervous. Even though he had made death threats before, she had a feeling that he was actually going to go through with this one.

"Too bad, _princess_." He pulled the trigger and a single bullet shot straight through her heart and sprayed the walls with blood. Her body dropped to the ground, limp, like a rag doll.

Joker stared at the blood on the barrel of the gun as it ran down onto his glove.

He threw the gun at the foot of her body and slowly took his gloves off, examining the pattern of blood on the wall.

It had always amused him. To think he was an artist appealed to him.

_& I'm gonna paint this town into my own twisted masterpiece._

He sighed, dropped his gloves and walked away from the scene of his crime.

The police couldn't trace him, and all that was left was a pair of gloves and a nameless body.

They buried her in the cemetery with a gravestone marked:

_Here lies a girl._

_Though she is nameless,_

_None who knew her shall forget._

& joker never did.

_Fin._


End file.
